


Gifts

by moonjump05



Category: The Legend of Dragoon
Genre: Angst, Dragoons, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Giganto, Interspecies Awkwardness, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Interspecies Sex, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Rarepair, Sequel, Shameless Smut, Size Difference, Size Kink, So many great interspecies tags, Some humor here and there, come die with me in rarepair hell, other characters are mentioned but don't appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 19:09:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20698439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonjump05/pseuds/moonjump05
Summary: Miranda and Kongol after the game.  Supporting credit to Haschel, cameo by Meru.





	Gifts

Miranda stood straight, her heavy formal dress pooling around her feet and her hair pulled back with a simple carved tortoiseshell comb- a sentimental piece. The white silver dragoon spirit shone against her throat, a soft ethereal glow. The Crystal Palace was in high spirits, the grand hall decorated with flowers, the tall arches hung with banners. Guests were seated, bright gowns and dapper waistcoats and large smiles as they waited.

Queen Theresa presided from the dais, the three other Sacred Sisters surrounded her. More lines on her face these days but her eyes were shining, even from the far end of the hall where Miranda stood she could see it clearly.

Her adoptive mother had cried when she found out, gleaming tears of happiness that Miranda couldn’t quite match. She had held her soft hands though, knowing.

The queen had embraced the news, planning an enormous celebration. One worthy of Mille Sesau. And so had summoned the chefs, a team of seamstresses, florists from Donau and musicians. Had sent out elegant invitations to all corners of the world. It was to be the event of the century.

Unfortunately it might be too much. Miranda turned and looked up, worried, “Are you ready?”

Dark eyes in a face much paler than usual, “I’m nervous.”

“It’s understandable,” matter of fact, “It’s your wedding day.”

“Mother…”

Miranda touched her daughter’s arm, a small smile of reassurance, “Look, they’re all waiting for you.”

***

A year after the attack on the Crystal Palace had seen a changed world. Winglies moved from myth to mundane, helping to rebuild. Alliances had built from the ashes of war, giving Endiness an era of peace. The terror of the Black Monster and the hidden abomination of the Moonchild forever ended.

Miranda stood at the open window, breathing in the air. Even the scent of the gardens below now were rather nostalgic instead of painful.

A few moments more, a quick break in the flurry of activity, and she exhaled and turned away. This high up in the palace there were still renovations underway, masons and carpenters worked alongside silver haired winglies. Scaffolds held the great green crystal in place, the newer sections just that much brighter than the older sending dappled patterns of light along the rooms.

“Miranda!” Wink called her over while standing next to Queen Theresa. The two had been overseeing the work, “Have you spoken to the teamster’s guild head yet?”

The renovation supplies had been delivered later and later recently, “Yes,” though the ruddy man had left in a huff afterwards, “A few overseers will be sent to determine the delay tomorrow.”

“Hopefully it is nothing serious,” Queen Theresa frowned.

Nothing more serious than the guild taking on a very lucrative contract recently and neglecting their older, sparing and more reluctantly patriotic duty according to her spy. A couple of well placed threats had put the guild head in his place, “I am sure you are right,” she turned back to Wink, “Have our guests arrived yet?”

“Earlier while you were in the meeting. I had them shown to their rooms, but the steward will bring them here now that you are done.”

Good, she had waited for some time before they would come from so far. And while some sense of missed camaraderie was certainly present- in fact she had made sure the cellars were stocked in preparation of some friendly drinking- it was their martial skills that she had need of.

Rebuilding and reconciliation had been paramount, so security had fallen. The dismissal of the Commander of the Holy Knights had been in her opinion long overdue, but had left a them low on manpower. Many of the outer villages had been raided by monsters and their soldiers run thin. New recruits were needed and that meant training.

Who better than a Master of the Rouge School and the Devil God?

They came soon after, Haschel all smiles and Kongol trailing more stoically behind. The two looked well, clearly the journey had not been over taxing. Haschel the same as ever, the man didn’t seem to age and Kongol was in the more casual attire he had adapted from Rouge. The lack of war paint softened him just the smallest bit.

The steward announced them rather informally, “Your Highness and Sacred Sisters, Master Haschel of the Rouge School and Dragoon Kongol.”

Queen Theresa greeted them with a slight bow, “Thank you both for coming.”

“Can’t say no when Miranda asks so nicely,” Haschel laughed as if he and the queen of Mille Sesau had been friends for years.

“I’ll take you both to the barracks and training grounds,” Miranda cut in while a nonplussed Queen Theresa blinked, “Unless you want to see the armory first?”

The two men looked at each other for a moment, “Barracks first,” Haschel answered, “Remember, ‘the best weapon against the enemy is another enemy’,” Kongol nodded in agreement.

Well, at least she could appreciate that. She’d have to bring out the drinks tonight, “Let’s go then,” Queen Theresa and Wink seemed rather lost anyway by now, best let them continue with the renovations, “Steward, find the guard captain and have him come to-”

A crack, then a shout.

Miranda turned, her hand reaching for her bow and quiver and finding nothing. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, no arrow could have stopped half the scaffolding from falling towards them. She reached out to Queen Theresa, elegant head turned away, and Wink, her mouth slack, hopelessly. It would come down on them.

She still reached out.

But the scaffolding didn’t come crashing down, not in full at least. A few loose beams hit the floor around them, but most of it halted just above them with a groan.

Kongol had caught the heavy structure against his broad back, knees bent and arms straining, “Get out.”

Haschel helped her pull Queen Theresa and Wink away, by now the workers had rushed over to the scene. Together with the giganto they were able to set the scaffolding down and got the two stranded carvers to safety.

Silver white dragoon spirit glowing strong in her hand, Miranda went to her adoptive mother and sister. They were shaken but unhurt and Wink led the queen away to rest without much fuss. Just as well since she was going to tear whoever responsible a new one-

“Miranda,” Haschel cut into her fuming. He stood next to a sitting but slouched over Kongol.

She hurried over, the dragoon spirit in hand. Scrapes and bruises, nothing life threatening she gratefully marveled, but the healing was a welcome relief. The enormous man sighed, rolling his bulky shoulder before standing.

“You crazy son of bitch!” Haschel laughed shaking his head in wonder, “I’ve seen you do it before but damn! I think I just lost ten years from my life!”

“That wouldn’t stop you.”

“Damn right!”

Miranda eased, they could joke about it, but if Kongol hadn’t been there… well, no human man could have done that. He had saved her sister, her mother, the kingdom from a national tragedy. She reached out lightly, touching his arm and he turned. Angular face and deep set eyes looked down at her, “Thank you. I…Thank you.”

“Oh look, you got Miranda melodramatic,” Haschel leered and she stepped back, “Another miracle.”

“The only miracle is when you shut your mouth,” she muttered, arms crossed.

“A miracle intended by good ale,” he tried to loop an arm around her but her glare fended him off, “Which I suggest is a better route today. The troop inspection can wait until tomorrow.”

He was probably right, the news of the accident would spread and the mood of the castle would be shaky. Best let everyone have time to recover, “Go on, I’ll meet you later,” an investigation could not wait to be started.

“Try not to maim anyone.”

“No promises.”

They left and the next hours ran in a fever dream of barking orders and hunting down every last tradesman involved in the reconstruction. Answers were few and unsatisfying, the accident seemed to be just that- a freak accident that had left even the carpenters shaken. Miranda was relieved and pissed in equal measure, a scapegoat would have been a balm to her worries.

At least the dragoons were true to their word and had saved her a seat in the mid castle tavern room. She knew they preferred the one in the barracks- lower in the castle and lower in prestige- but as Sacred Sister she would be sorely out of place.

“Sit down then,” Haschel was well in his cups, his ruddy face even more flushed, “Any leads?”

She sat down heavily, brushing her hair back and motioned to the barkeep for her usual, “No, it seems to be an accident.”

“Really? Well, I guess at least you didn’t uncover a coup.”

She accepted her glass, the clear liquor burned pleasantly down her throat and she let out a sigh. Kongol eyed her with his serious gaze, “Could be hidden…look into it?”

Miranda considered the offer, they could try some routes she would be barred from. And with a perfect cover as they were already supposed to be here, “Yes, but be subtle about it,” she said this more for Haschel’s benefit than Kongol’s. The giganto was surprisingly discreet.

Kongol gave a grave nod, but Haschel waved her off, “Yes, yes, now time to relax,” he saluted with his ale, some of it splashing out of the mug. Miranda exhaled and raised her own glass.

Several glasses and even a few tipsy renditions of folk songs by some red faced guards later Miranda was ready to call it a night. The long day had taken it’s toll, “Time to say good night,” she slammed back the last of her liquor, the burn merely a tingle now, “I’ll meet up with you two after the mid day meal.”

A groan and a wave from the elder martial artist master, she wondered if Haschel would even be up by that hour. The many nights in taverns around Endiness no different than back then. Sometimes Rose would join in, but rarely and with even less conversation than she herself offered. To be honest it was Haschel that did most of the talking either way.

Kongol fared better, as per usual, the ale going down like a human would drink water. He sat comfortably and clear eyed and the smallest frown on his face, “Help him back?”

Miranda shrugged, Haschel wouldn’t be the only one stumbling back if the crowd around them was anything to go by, “He’s a big boy, I’m sure he remembers his way back,” and if not- she caught the barkeeps eye and the man gave a nod. Haschel was a royal guest, he would be taken care of.

Kongol glanced back over his massive shoulder, and then nodded, seemingly satisfied with the situation. He set down his mug and stood up, “Go too.”

They walked out together, their paths not splitting until they crossed into the other wing of the palace. Then she would head up to the royal rooms and him down to the barracks. The halls were nearly empty at this time of night, a few guards trying to keep awake. Just as well, she hardly wanted an audience, she came to a stop, “Kongol?”

He looked down, was that curiosity on his impassive face? It was hard to tell at times.

“I wanted to thank you again,” she breathed out, finally able to finish her sentiments from earlier. The hellish day had dragged on long enough, she would be able to put her last task to rest now, “You saved them,” she met his gaze, “My mother and sister…”

She had nearly lost her family, again. Although not from avarice or human folly this time, just from pure random accident. She didn’t know which was possibly worse.

“Safe now,” he said steadily in that deep rumble, “Do not trouble yourself.”

Couldn’t he just accept the thanks graciously? Her brow furrowed, a scathing remark ready on her lips before she suddenly deflated. He was just reassuring her in his own odd way, a giganto of few words she could hardly expect him to act like King Albert accepting his subject’s favor, “…My thanks can never be enough. I will be forever grateful,” she pressed a hand to her heart and bowed. Even if he wouldn’t accept a royal thanks she could still give him one.

Straightening, Miranda caught his slow blink and the strange but undeniable uncertainty on his face. Surely she hadn’t overstepped so much?

A moment, “…Understand. Kongol’s family gone…” all the gigantos were gone, she could nearly hear it even if he didn’t say it, “Not wish on worst enemy.”

And sadly, this was probably the most intimate conversation they have had. Probably the most intimate conversation she had in a long time. Keeping her bitch face- harsh façade up had proved exceedingly effective.

Miranda let herself smile, just a bit softly, afterall there wasn’t anyone else around to see it, “’Worst enemy’? Can’t say I’m not usually in that group.”

Kongol actually let out a chuckle, truncated as it was, “Well deserved. Only strongest can be worst.”

  
***

The next day dawned bright and clear and Miranda could hardly remember the last time she had been able to appreciate it. Too long, if the still anxious faces around her were anything to go by. The current messenger she was directing was no exception- at first. When her biting tongue was held in the barest fraction, the young woman seemed to relax enough to smile herself.

In fact, the morning seemed to pass relatively pleasantly. The strain of yesterday absent. Miranda had nearly forgotten until she saw Haschel outside the throne room, pacing.

Miranda frowned, the previous days events catching up to her. She wasn’t supposed to meet them until later, had something happened already? “Haschel? What are you doing here?”

For as drunk as he had been last night, the elder martial artist looked amazingly recovered. She tried not to be too envious, when she indulged she needed quite a bit more time to recuperate.

Haschel matched her frown, “Just waiting,” he crossed his arms, she swore he was pouting, “I wasn’t invited in.”

Was the man sixty or six? “An explanation might help, unless you mean to sulk out here all day when you were supposed to start your investigation?”

“We did start- the investigation that is,” he backed up, waving his arms, “But then your sis came up and said that the queen wanted to talk to Kongol.”

“Why?”

“I dunno! I’ve been out here!”

Miranda rolled her eyes and pushed past Haschel. The guards quickly made way and she breezed inside the throne room, Haschel following closely behind.

Queen Theresa’s tinkling laughter filled the room, “-suppose I should’ve gotten more sandwiches!”

Wink sat next to her, teacup in hand, “Oh, Miranda!” she beckoned her over, “I tried to find you earlier.”

A blink, the three of them were sitting at a table laden with tea and sandwiches. Queen Theresa in all her court finery, Wink prim and proper… and Kongol, the enormous giganto dwarfing the two women. His axe was laid against the wall, instead he held a teacup in his massive hand.

Haschel stifled a guffaw, whether it was her own elbow to his gut or Kongol’s truly cold glare, he shut up remarkably quick, “I was in the messenger’s office,” she explained while a maid brought over another chair. She sat down, “What did I miss?”

Queen Theresa smiled beatifically, “I wasn’t able to thank Kongol yesterday. I am trying to make it up to him.”

Oh? Miranda looked to the giganto in question, he wouldn’t meet her gaze. Was… was he blushing? “I see,” she helped herself to some tea and sandwiches. She hadn’t eaten yet today. Besides, not only did she get to witness her mother subduing Kongol with courtesy- Haschel still hadn’t been offered a chair, much less acknowledged at all. She leaned back, crossing her legs and enjoying her tasty sandwich.

It didn’t last nearly long enough, the queen was much too sensitive, “Ah, Master Haschel… please have a seat as well.”

Another chair was brought over and he sat down hard, “Thank you Queen Theresa,” he said sickenly sweet as he glared at Miranda. She ignored him.

“Of course,” she waved him to help himself, hostess mode back on, “I am hoping to have a ceremony- a formal recognition of Kongol’s brave act.”

Miranda should have known better, of course her mother would want to, “I agree, however it might need to wait until after the reconstruction,” and after the investigation. If the queen had already been targeted, then the chaos of a large formal event would bring even more security risk. Best solve that issue first.

Theresa deflated a bit, “Yes, you are right,” she turned to Kongol, a gentle smile on her face, “A small delay, I am sure. In the mean time, I hope you will accept some royal gifts-” she waved over her assistant who presented the giganto with a scroll, “-and of course my heartfelt gratitude.”

Kongol nearly bowed, “I accept.”

He seemed to be just fine with courtly manners today, Miranda chewed on her sandwich.

“And please, come see me whenever you have time.”

He nodded.

“Mother,” Wink interrupted, “It is time for your appointment with the physician.”

Queen Theresa stood and bid them farewell, Wink walking at her side, ready to offer assistance. They were not going to be too careful afterall. As they passed through the door, Miranda figured she would confer with the other two dragoons now since the opportunity had presented itself. Plus, there were still sandwiches left.

She opened her mouth, but Haschel beat her to it, “How the hell did you get so cozy with the royalty?”

Kongol’s mouth was a thin line, “Queen is kind.”

“Much nicer to you than she ever was to me,” he huffed.

“Because you’re overly familiar with her,” Miranda explained, “You’re too annoying to keep that respectful distance.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“I’m her daughter. It’s different,” Haschel had nothing to say to that, for once. She picked up her tea cup and sipped. The fragrance was rather settling.

Of course the silence lasted only about that long, “You seem to be getting along with the queen just fine,” directed at Kongol this time, “Must’ve been Emperor Doel rubbing off on you.”

He remained silent, looking down into the tiny cup held in his hands.

Miranda sighed, putting her own cup down. Just what they needed, reminders of the past. Perhaps she should just bring up Claire and the rose pattern on the china- then all of them could spend the day navel gazing, “I had a message sent to the outposts on the border. They are to report on all of our reconstruction goods crossing into the country. Perhaps we shouldn’t be looking for an assassin, but just his blade,” shoddy goods could do the job, and no one person to find afterwards.

Haschel looked over to her, beady eyes shrewd, “So far out? Don’t your guildsmen check the goods here?”

“Yes, but not as thoroughly as possible. With the whole palace in disarray, shortcuts are easily overlooked,” she had seen the partially filled out logs and the lack of inspection stamps. Several foremen had already been dismissed.

Kongol stood, “Already late. Will question recruits.”

“Good, I’ll meet up with you two later.”

***

Days passed, then weeks and nothing more than one of the painters smuggling in moonshine to avoid customs taxes. It wasn’t even very good booze, made in some backwater it would probably make you go blind if you drank it too long. They were doing the people of Mille Seseau a public health service by disposing of it.

Miranda started to let the accident go, focusing on the training of their new recruits. This task going much more smoothly, having two famous dragoons overseeing the day to day had brought out the best of the best. She even had been brought inquiries from other countries, young and eager and looking to join. She sent King Albert a missive with the ones from Basil, perhaps he would consider something similar now that Haschel and Kongol were due to leave. They were to head back to Rouge, but maybe could be persuaded elsewhere.

If not, then he could press Dart. Although, with Shana in her delicate condition Miranda doubted he would be leaving Seles anytime soon.

Walking through the brisk afternoon air, Miranda traveled the length of the archery range to the targets. She had just given a demonstration to the recruits so it was empty right now, only the scattered arrows littering the ground. The targets remained nearly untouched, except for one- hers. The shafts stuck out of the hay bale, tightly grouped together just off center. She did that sometimes, chose an arbitrary spot to hit. To practice her precision.

She could leave the arrows, the grounds master would make sure they were cleaned up. However, these were her own personal supply and she didn’t want to be without them for the couple of hours it would take. Some might call her paranoid, she preferred prepared. They came out easy enough, the arrow head pulling out strands of straw that fluttered slowly to the ground. Back into her quiver, she went to grab the last one when a heavy footstep startled her. Her hand twitched as she spun around and stood, snapping the shaft in half.

“Shit-” she shook the splinters from her fingers and looked up and up, “You snuck up on me.”

Kongol frowned, “…Alright?”

“Yes, I’ll live,” she yanked out the broken arrowhead, leaving the fletched half on the ground. The head could be salvaged at least, “What are you doing here? I don’t suppose it’s to help clean up?”

“Watched demonstration.”

She hadn’t seen him, you could hardly miss him, “…?”

He pointed up over her shoulder. Miranda half turned, ah, there was a balcony there. Covered, she wouldn’t have been able to see him, “Here to give constructive criticism?”

He shook his head, “If need fist, ask Haschel. If need axe, ask Kongol. If need arrow, ask Miranda,” she smirked at that, “Speak about return.”

Head tilted slightly, “To Rouge?” he had said little about living in the coastal town, Haschel had been the one with the stories of falling off of balance stumps and nearly gagging at just the sight of raw oysters. Kongol had been rather tight lipped about it, as he was most things to be honest. She had wondered how he was doing there, quite a change in scenery to say the least, but he hadn’t said anything.

“To here.”

Well, she had been considering asking them back earlier than anticipated. The training was just going so smoothly. She brushed her hair over her shoulder, “I would be glad for you to come back sooner rather than later- I wasn’t going to push it though.”

“Good,” he looked pleased, “Will tell Haschel.”

“You hadn’t asked him?” strange, “He’s been eager to return to Rouge,” he had his other students there, after twenty years of roaming finally settling long enough to properly train them. He had been rather more maudlin lately as the date to depart drew near, eager to get back.

The giganto frowned, she could see the muscle jump in his cheek. He took a moment to answer, “…he is.”

Miranda stared, considering, “…you aren’t.”

He didn’t reply.

Perhaps he hadn’t said anything, because there really wasn’t anything to say? She could relate, ask her about life on the glacier and she would probably have the same response. Kongol had probably been the one most uprooted from their journey- sure it was from a life of servitude/thralldom under Doel but still… “Kongol, you are welcome back anytime. I am sure Queen Theresa would agree,” that was no lie, the queen had taken quite the liking to the giganto surprisingly.

He gave a sharp nod, “Good.”

Miranda continued, “Albert might try and poach you, if you’re keeping your options open,” perhaps he just didn’t want to return to Rouge per se.

“No, here.”

***

Miranda gathered with her mother and sisters near the palace steps- the last two months had been an exceptional success however the time had come for her two dragoon comrades to depart. For now. Plans had already made for Kongol at least to return in a few more months time. Queen Theresa had approved the continued training wholeheartedly.

In fact she was saying her goodbyes, her own pale hands on the giganto’s much larger darker ones. Miranda was a tall woman, but the queen was rather petite and dwarfed by the man next to her.

Setie and Luanna had returned just recently from their travels and so were here for formalities more than anything. Wink however sidled up to her, “Quite a pair.”

Miranda leaned, hand on hip, “The formal ceremony was better.”

Wink giggled, that had been quite the event. She had never seen a giganto in formal clothing, much less go through the full and rather exhaustive ritual of Mille Seseau court. Haschel had demanded to be there too, to support his student supposedly, and then proceeded to complain for the next three hours about how his tight shoes had caused a blister on his foot. Apparently, Kongol had thrown him into the men’s bath- still in his brand new, expensive clothing.

A small smile on her face, Miranda also enjoyed the faces of some of the courtiers as Queen Theresa had beckoned Kongol down to kneel before her and then bestowed a regal kiss to his forehead. They all had gone to the moon and back, fought together in the skies and trudged through all of Endiness. He deserved all the respect he received.

“It is time for farewell,” Haschel maybe not so much. The martial artist clasped his hands together and bowed, not before giving Wink an exaggerated wink-he thought himself clever- to which Wink of course giggled.

“Safe travels, Haschel,” Miranda sighed, but there was no mockery in her voice, “And thank you.”

He stepped to the side to wait as Kongol finished his good byes to the queen. A nod to the other three sacred sisters and then the giganto came to her, “For you, to replace broken one.”

He handed her a long box, simple wood with a leather hinge. Miranda frowned, confused, but opened it. Inside were arrows, a dozen maybe, steel tipped and fletched with golden barred feathers. All this because she had broken a single one? “You didn’t need to…” she trailed off, Kongol wasn’t looking at her, gaze downcast. However, everyone else was- strangely eager, “… but thank you.”

Queen Theresa and Haschel had grins, and Wink was trying to hide hers behind a hand. What…? Kongol nodded solemnly to her, “Return soon.”

Haschel reached up to slap Kongol’s shoulder, he was shorter than her and could only grasp his back, “Good, good. Let’s get going. I don’t want to camp out in the middle of nowhere.”

Still a bit unsettled, “I’ll be sending a letter after winter,’ she tucked the box into her side, “Keep an eye out for it.”

They left, waving good bye- well Haschel did. Kongol just glanced back briefly. Then the two were gone.

“Shall we head back in?” Theresa came up to her side, her sisters already halfway up the stairs. Miranda nodded and looped her free hand with the queen, a steady handhold, “At least they won’t be snowed in,” the queen continued as they walked back through the palace, “I hear Rouge is very tropical.”

“It is,” hot and humid. She was a daughter of the tundra at heart, although the deep snowdrifts of winter tried even her patience.

“Hmmm,” the wrinkles around her eyes creased, something must have amused her with that answer. Whatever it was, Miranda didn’t have time to ask, “Those arrows are quite nice,” she pivoted the conversation. Surprised, the queen was well away when she opened it. She didn’t think she could see.

She glanced down to the box, “…yes, but…” Miranda let the sentence hang.

Queen Theresa tilted her head, heavy silver earrings dangling. A gift from the late king, she wore them often, “What is it?”

Miranda frowned, something still seemed…off. Like she was missing something obvious. No need to worry her mother though, “Nothing,” she patted the queen’s hand, “I’ll try them out on the harvest hunt.”

“Yes, that will do nicely.”

***

Fall passed to winter which passed to spring, and save for a new trend- ice skating? With blades? On your feet? She wondered how they managed to get through without anyone being decapitated- passed relatively uneventfully. With the very last of the reconstruction finishing up, the palace was nearly back to it’s former glory. No, perhaps even better with the help the winglies had provided. To think, together in a way that for 11,000 years was impossible.

Meru had come at the first melting snows, dragging along Guahara, to see the progress of the palace. At least that’s what she said. More likely she was bored. Although expecting entertainment from Miranda was bound to be a lost cause.

Luckily(?) Haschel had turned up with Kongol soon enough and the two were thick as thieves and twice as outrageous. She hardly knew why Haschel even bothered coming at all since he only stayed a few days and left, the journey back took nearly as long. In fact, he mostly was out of sight- if unfortunately not out of mind. Only seemingly hanging around her that first day, as if waiting for her to say something or do something.

Meru followed him, the great wingly cooperation seemingly forgotten. Charle was a more appropriate, and dependable, representative.

Instead, there were another two months of excellent recruitment and training. Kongol had brought back several copies of the Rouge School’s scrolls on both forms and strategy to be added for study. He was no master himself, but had spent the last year training and could guide the novices through the basics. The scroll copies were beautiful, filled with elegant writing and detailed illustrations. She could only imagine the originals- carefully preserved against time and wear in their silk covers. The copies were given to the palace scribes to produce scrolls suitable for general perusal in their National Library.

All save one, which Kongol presented to her when first coming to the palace. A treatise on archery, filled with instructions for everything from bow construction to mounted tactics to diagrams of all the muscles of the body and how they acted together to draw and release. She had never seen the like.

A thoughtful gift, one that would expand their own knowledge with that from the foreign masters. She could hardly wait to implement the teachings within.

***

This became their schedule for some time- a few weeks of recruit training and exercises followed by a several month break. Most times it was Haschel and Kongol, but a few times only the giganto with Haschel remaining to instruct his pupils in Rouge.

The other dragoons visited as well- usually Meru who never seemed to stay in one place, but also Dart and Shana made their way once with their toddler in tow. They stayed for some days, bringing along sensitive messages from Albert who could not leave his kingdom save for formal matters of state between the nations. Of course, that didn’t stop him from waxing poetic about their adventures in verbose detail. He just only had to content himself with letters and not a live captive audience.

Miranda wondered if this agenda would continue indefinitely.

***

  
It was not to be so.

The heat of the Deningrad summer was something that seemed to creep up on her every year, the heavy air sticking her hair to the back of her neck and causing sweat creases in her clothing. For as cold and long and dreary the winter could be summer blasted in hot and bright.

Standing outside waiting did not help matters. She marveled at her mother, as cool and collected as if she had just emerged from her dressing room. Queen Theresa had insisted however, so they were going to wait to receive their guests formally. The three other Sacred Sisters stood on her other side, Wink at the queen’s elbow and the other two a half step back. At least they looked as wilted as she felt.

The herald called out, the guard escort coming into view. Haschel was short enough that he wasn’t easily seen, but he had said he would be along. Kongol was obviously apparent as he always was, towering over the armor clad guards, their spear tips just barely taller than him.

Queen Theresa walked out to meet them, smile on her face and Miranda and her sisters followed. The queen would always be greeted first, “Welcome back,” the petite woman nodded slightly to Haschel- he had seemed to grow on her much to Miranda’s dismay- but clasped Kongol’s hands unreservedly.

Kongol nodded, his hard face just a bit soft.

Haschel bowed grandly, “At your service, Your Majesty,” he turned to Miranda as the queen was saying something lightly to the giganto, “It’s been a while,” he hadn’t come the last two times, “I’ll have to see how badly the instruction has slipped in my absence.”

Miranda glared, he was already starting his nonsense, “If you were truly worried you would have come,” she called him out, “Besides, everything has been proceeding nicely.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect less from my student-”

“-Whose recruits score about 15% higher on their exams than yours do,” she interrupted him while he pouted, “And are not prone to talking up wandering Endiness as a valid career choice.”

“That was one man!”

“Shouldn’t have told story,” Kongol came up to the two of them, “At least not promised ‘save the world’.”

“…it worked out for me… traitor…” muttering.

Miranda ignored him and turned to Kongol, “Welcome back,” she smiled, “You journey went well?”

He nodded, opened his mouth to speak and then shut it with the merest hint of a frown. An exhale, whatever he was going to say he decided against it. Had something happened?

Before she could ask, Kongol pulled something, long and narrower at one end than the other, from his side bag, wrapped in soft cloth, “For you,” he held it out stiffly, laid on his hands like an offering. He held her gaze.

Brow creasing, Miranda brushed her hair over her shoulder, “Another?” he always seemed to come with gifts, first the arrows and the scroll, then the fine ceramic jug filled with sweet rum. He had brought a pair of iron spurs, a slender pen topped with a bright piece of coral, an ivory handled knife and even a Rouge school training gi.

All thoughtful and useful, nothing like the jeweled combs her mother would commission, sitting mostly forgotten in her armoire. She always meant to return the favor, but it always seemed to slip her mind.

She paused, about to question him why but the looks of everyone waiting, strangely eager, spurned her to take the gift. It was not as heavy as its size would suggest, and she easily held it in one hand and unwrapped the covering with the other.

A quiver, the finely pebbled leather matching her armor. The unusual color, nearly orange, was rare and valuable. She wore it as befitting her status as First Sacred Sister. Inlaid at both ends, silver surrounding bright turquoise and mother of pearl.

Beautiful and far too expensive, this was no small trinket, “I can’t accept this,” she held it out, back. The quiver shone in the sunlight.

Silence, deafening. Miranda looked to the others, their disappointed faces would not meet her gaze. She turned back to Kongol, discomfited.

But he was not looking back at her, rather to some point over her head, eyes faraway. Jaw tense, she could see the muscle jump, but the rest of him was very still. As if having to hold in himself, “Yours,” he gently pushed it back to her.

“It is far too much-”

He shook his head, resigned, and pushed more firmly.

Miranda took the quiver back, “…You didn’t have to…” but the awkward silence persisted, thick and heavy. The queen motioned for them to head inside, but everyone seemed to be avoiding each other’s eyes and the group dispersed quickly with hardly a word leaving Miranda alone.

Dinner was marginally better, conversation had resumed but it seemed stilted. Unnatural. And hardly involved her at all. Miranda spent the time eating but still, she left feeling rather empty.

Haschel and Kongol did not meet her for drinks.

When she caught up to the other dragoons the next morning and nothing had seemed to improve, she did what she was best at- yelling. Even scaring a recruit half to death when her dragoon spirit flared to life as if she was heading into battle. She stepped away, into the bare hall to compose herself.

This was ridiculous.

She went to her mother.

Queen Theresa sat still and listened as Miranda ranted, at least this was a rather familiar scene, her face betraying nothing. The stone unaffected by the raging seas around it. Waiting until Miranda was out of steam and slumped into the chair, “Are you done?”

She sat up, scowling, “Is that all you are going to say?”

The queen sighed, setting down her teacup, “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’.”

Miranda actually flinched back, she had never been so flippant with her worries.

Theresa shook her head, “…I apologize, I am not meaning to be so harsh with you.”

Mollified, but not satisfied, “Then why am I being given the silent treatment?” she had yelled, slapped, stomped and scolded and had never been treated as thus. She knew she had been exceedingly lucky, but still it did little to lessen the sting now.

Soft brown eyes, creased with age and worry, stared at her. Looking through her, “Do you truly not know?”

“Would I be here if I did?” a blink, then a chuckle. It raised Miranda’s hackles, “What?”

“It’s just…” demeanor totally changed, the queen smiled, “I sometimes think that nothing gets by you,” she patted Miranda’s hand, “And here I thought we were all being so obvious…”

“Mother…”

“Right,” Theresa tilted her elegant head, “Where is that fine quiver?” she asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

The thrice Soa-cursed thing was on her dresser, like a beautiful aggravation, “My rooms.”

“And the arrows? The pen?”

She had used the arrows, they made for a fine show during the hunt. Even better when a few certain courtiers learned who they were from. Queen Theresa had been especially pleased. The pen sat on her table in her study, carefully cleaned after her last message to the baker’s guild, “The same.”

“That gi was very fine as well, indigo silk if I remember right. Though I haven’t seen you in it very often.”

Well, her mother wasn’t one to come down to the training rooms very often, “No…”

“It reminds me of the silk gown the late king gave me,” her voice growing wistful, “I wore it so often it grew threadbare by the time we were married. I took what I could of it and relined my jewelry chest. Even now, every time I open it I am reminded of him.

“Of course,” she continued, almost offhand, “I also see the coral hairpin he gave me and the ivory mirror and brush. In fact he carved the box himself, did you know? He had no great skill in woodworking, but handmade is expected.”

Miranda blinked, for once speechless.

“Courting gifts should follow tradition after all.”

***

She found Haschel in the lower corridor between the kitchens and the storerooms, likely looking for a midday snack. The man could eat his weight and not gain a pound- he had told her once he had a hollow leg.

Well, cornered him more likely, after he had seen her thundering down the hall, “Did you know?”

He tried to run but she got in front of him, “Know what?”

“You know what.”

“No, I don’t know what,” he sniped, petulant. He crossed his arms and glared.

He was no match for her own glare, “I am not playing Haschel. I didn’t know what was going on and I want some answers.”

“Why ask me?”

Because she wasn’t quite ready to face the true object of her inquiries. Not yet… “Because…” she paused, a deep breath, “Because I need to be more prepared. So I don’t end up making things worse.” so she didn’t screw up even more. So she didn’t hurt him, she didn’t want that.

Haschel considered her, “…you really didn’t know?”

“…No…”

“I thought you were a Sacred Sister? All knowledgeable about all this courtly tradition stuff?” he got a gleam in his eye, she frowned, “Or has the intimidating Miranda never been given a courting gift?”

She had in fact, too many to remember. As the First Sacred Sister she stood only second to the queen, and held her trust and affection. Many had looked to take advantage of it and showered her with heavy brocaded silk gowns, bulky gem encrusted necklaces and earrings and rings and bracelets, dainty slippers that could only be worn once and even a vase filled with golden roses.

She hated them all, thrown their sullied gifts back in their faces. Let them know their gifts-bribes honestly- were inappropriate and unwanted. After a while none had tried again, so she forgot.

“They weren’t suitable. I never accepted any of them.”

“You accepted his.”

She did, she sighed, “I didn’t know… I didn’t think…” what? That he would pursue her? She didn’t. He had never said anything, done anything beyond the formal gift giving. He was a friend, a comrade.

Giganto.

She didn’t consider him, she had no reason to think he would consider her. Afterall she was a human woman, she had no idea how she compared to a giganto woman. In his eyes she could have been too small, too pale, too weak. Strong enough, he had said so, to be an ally. But something else?

Something to want?

But… she paused, breath escaping her, there were no giganto women, where there? He was alone, had been alone since he was a small child. Perhaps she was only a choice because there were no other options.

Miranda mentally scolded herself, that was unkind to him. The only way to find out was to ask him and she wasn’t sure if she was yet up to the task.

“You know,” Haschel crossed his arms, shifting his weight to one foot, “I don’t think he really ever settled in Rouge. No matter how much I tried, he seemed apart. He put up with it sure, maybe just to put this old man’s mind at ease, but… he was always eager to come here. Especially after that first trip, he spent that whole winter copying those scrolls, hardly going out of the hut.

“I thought he was crazy, you’re a pretty thing to be sure but I’d fear for my life if I got on your wrong side,” she glared, “…so not an unwarranted fear then…”

“Haschel…”

“What I mean is, you should go talk to him. At least clear the air.”

He was right. He was right and she hated it, “Imagine, taking advice from you…”

“Hey! I’m not a Master for nothing!”

She turned to go, but not before saying over her shoulder, “Thanks, Haschel.”

***

Miranda stood in front of a door, it was a door like all the others in this hall- heavy oak banded with iron and seemingly at odds to the green crystal walls. This high up in the palace the rooms would be deserted at this time of day, their occupants attending to matters of state or other importance and the maids would have already done their midday cleaning. So she was alone at the moment, readying herself to go ahead and knock.

Heart thudding, she rapped the door, the sound very loud in the quiet hall. For a moment there was no answer, then, “Who?”

She unstuck her tongue from the roof of her mouth, “It’s Miranda. Can I speak to you?” her voice came out clear and strong. Good.

A moment, then the door opened, Kongol looked down at her, face impassive, “What is it?”

Tone cool, he didn’t yet know that she knew. Well, Miranda was never one known for having excessive amounts of tact, “The gifts are courting gifts,” she stated, “I think a discussion is in order.”

He flinched, actually flinched back before catching himself. Then he was still, “You know…”

“Yes, I know,” exasperated, she had probably said those words more times in the last few hours than she had her entire life, “Were you not going to say anything?”

Silent, mouth a thin line and gaze not meeting her own.

Miranda frowned, had he planned on ever saying anything? Or was he just going to give her gifts until one of them died? A disquieting thought crept in, of her worn grave in some snowy place with some new offering on it, “Do you want to have this discussion in the hall?’ she asked with a bit more venom than she wanted, “So anyone passing by can hear?”

A large finger tapped the doorframe, he could bar her and never speak to her and she couldn’t really do anything about it. Plus she had started off rather poorly, accusing when she really wanted to… “I came to clear things up,” she softened, “I’m not angry.”

Kongol considered her for a long moment, his gaze a heavy and brittle thing, before stepping back and letting her inside. This room was a gift, from Queen Theresa. A permanent room in the palace, Haschel had been rather peeved, he was still stuck in the guest barracks, specified to its owner. Several weapon racks were on the walls, and a large fireplace crackled even in this heat. The drapes had been pulled back, letting the room fill with harsh sunlight but this high up a sweet breeze also came in. A desk, a chest and a large low sleeping platform completed it. Miranda glanced over it, a half thought forming in her head but it could hold for now.

She sighed, turning around to face the giganto and craning her head up, “Thank you.”

He nodded but said nothing, close but not looming.

She could start then, “I wanted to apologize, I didn’t realize until this morning-”

“-No apology,” he cut her off, “Not for this.”

“I owe you-” he glared at her. No, he wouldn’t want an apology for her not knowing. Probably wouldn’t want one for not accepting his gift either, even if it had been an honest mistake. He would see it as a gift, freely given and with no expectations. Not even the expectation of acceptance. She felt her chest tighten, “Then I will only apologize for causing you hurt, I never meant to.”

Kongol inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring and he nodded once. Sharply.

She searched his face, the familiar angular lines of it, “I admit, I was surprised,” she saw him tense, worry on his frame. She continued, “I doubted I’d ever get a real courting gift.”

He relaxed, marginally, “Not because…” as if he couldn’t even finish.

Miranda did it for him, “Of you? No, not the way you’re thinking. At least, I hope not,” he may have been branded the Devil God, the only remaining giganto, but she knew that was not the sum of him, “Only, you never said anything. Never,” she gestured between them, “did anything.”

Silent for a long moment, then, “Can…?”

She tilted her head up, “Hmmm?”

Softly, a bit timid, “Do something?”

Miranda considered it, what he asked, why he asked. She gulped, “Yes.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected, or wanted really. Perhaps he would grab her, large hands running down her sides to her hips. Or maybe run fingers along her neck, dipping in the space between her collarbone. She wasn’t prepared for what actually happened.

A trembling hand reached out, gently brushing her hair over her shoulder and then returned to his side. Fist clenched.

He didn’t look at her, but down to the floor, waiting.

Her face flushed, oh…

Oh…

…oh

That answered one question, even if it opened up a whole bevy of new ones. The fluttery heat was welcome if somewhat unfamiliar, it had been a long time after all. But she had to be sure, didn’t she? This was not some frivolous fling, to be picked up and put down whenever convenient. This was her friend, comrade and well… giganto. She had to be sure.

“Kongol,” she touched his arm where is hung at his side, she could feel the muscles flex, “Can you kneel? This will be pretty awkward otherwise.”

He knelt, a bit wide eyed, “…Miranda?”

She quirked a brow up, “Yes?”

“…Don’t have to,” ever was the rest of it he didn’t say.

A gentle palm to his face shut him up, her other rested on the other side. Angular nose and sharp cheeks and the white glow of his eyes were even more pronounced up close. Even kneeling he was taller than her, but just by the slightest bit. She felt powerful, in control as she held his face in her hands with him kneeling on just her word. That was promising.

She smirked and leaned in, brushing her lips against his for a heartbeat and then catching his in a rather chaste kiss. A bit dry but generous, she slid her hands down from his face to his broad shoulders. He was wide, enough that she doubted she could wrap her arms around him totally, but solid as a rock as the earth.

He was still…still, letting her lead the way with nary a motion. And while she could appreciate, could understand, could even enjoy it as it was- kissing was a two person job and she had decided to find out if it was one she wanted to pursue.

Miranda slanted her lips on his, opening up to press the wet insides more firmly against him, urging. Kongol responded, finally, matching her even if he was just a half step behind, just the slightest hesitation. Better now, much better, she sighed nearly a groan.

She swayed a bit, leaning more fully into him and one of his hands came up to rest lightly on her back, spanning the whole expanse. Warmth spread out, even in the stifling summer heat and the stuffy room she felt it. Her head swam.

Pulling back just the slightest, her breath came heavy and fast. Her hands went from his shoulders to the top of his massive chest, well… that answered that.

“Kongol…?”

He started at her voice, his breath escaping him in one deep exhale as if he had been holding it, “…?”

Miranda huffed, a throaty sound, “I think… I think I’ll have to try out that quiver,” she let her hands trail down softly, suggestively, “Should we go down to the range?”

It would be crowded at this time of day, full of recruits. Where was a better audience to show off her courting gift?

A smile, small but true, “Yes.”

***

The quiver hung comfortably from her hip, conspicuous. Miranda wore it often in the days that followed, her challenging glare driving off any malicious remarks or comments. Other than a few raised brows, none said anything further.

And in fact amongst her family and comrades there were only hearty congratulations. Queen Theresa was ecstatic, Luanna and Setie were devoted to each other, Wink had her ill fated infatuation and her birth daughter was lost, this was her chance at welcoming new family. Miranda smiled politely, a bit overwhelmed.

At least Haschel was his usual incorrigible self. After the hundredth bad innuendo she had slapped him across the table, tipping it over and all the booze onto him. She had been proud of her restraint.

However, he had brought up certain… logistical issues. As Kongol had helped the old master back to his room, a sympathetic look on his face and a grip a bit just on the rough side, she had headed back to her own room…thinking…

It nagged at her, over the rest of his visit, popping into her mind with the same questions and no new answers. Kongol had been even more tight lipped than usual when she had bluntly asked him, her impatience getting ahead of her. A few simple responses, things she could guess just by looking at him to be honest, was all she got out of him. Frustrating, but she could give him some time. He obviously needed it.

He left with Hachel too soon with a promise to quickly return. Had even let her hold his hands as she said goodbye. They had a more private farewell earlier, at least he was not opposed to the kissing. And it had gotten even better.

***

He returned within the month, new gift in hand- a tortoiseshell comb, hand carved with ancient giganto glyphs. She accepted it wholeheartedly.

“Kongol?” she walked with him after dinner, ready to say good night and part like they had so many times before.

He turned to her.

Miranda stared back up at him, “You’re welcome to come back with me…to my room…anytime.” She had not spent their time apart thoughtlessly, she had a plan.

A massive hand brushed her hair back, then rested on her shoulder, “…Know…will.”

She sighed, “But not tonight?”

He shook his head, but is was rather fondly- not in exasperation. Well, at least sounding like a horny teenager seemed to have not put him off too much. Kongol leaned down, way down, to kiss her. His mouth was wide, it took a moment to fit together but just a moment. After that it was wet heat and breathy sighs.

His hand moved down to her back, pressing her closer. Her own moved up around his thick neck, hanging on as she was pulled up onto her toes. Muscles stretching, Miranda felt the strain settle in her bones, her gut, and lower.

She tried not to let the disappointment show when he straightened, letting her back down onto the ball and then heel of her feet. A deep rumble, “Good night.”

“…Good night.”

***

Weeks passed in much the same way: attend to matters of state, review the recruit training, catch up over dinner and drinks and then a late night kiss before going to sleep only to repeat it again the next day. An exceptionally well day she could easily admit, even if she sometimes waited up a bit longer than she should have. Waiting for a knock on her door.

She could wait.

***

The orchestra played another waltz, the courtiers spinning on the dance floor in a swirl of color and a flash of gems. But outside, from the balcony the sounds of screaming cicadas drowned it out for the most part. Miranda waited there, the cool breeze a welcome relief from the late summer heat. She sipped her wine, fancy fluted glass and all.

As First Sacred Sister she was expected to play hostess, as Miranda no one was going to force her to do so. She would have gladly made her appearance and left, but her mother had been so happy to congratulate her in front of all the nobles she had stayed. Besides, she had bugged off so many of these events in the past she figured she should remain for this one.

She was left alone for the most part, her mother and sisters handling the party. Her fellow dragoons handled security, Haschel had eventually made his way up to the banquet- the buffet table in particular. Meru had shown up out of the blue a few days before, as if she could sniff out a party from the other end of Endiness. She saw the wingly spinning around her own fiance, a formal dress happily provided by the queen. Energetic and bouncing along, Meru had at last left her a few songs before- when her probing questions had gone unanswered. The girl must have a sense of self preservation afterall.

Miranda set down her glass, wondering where the other dragoon was. She doubted he would be out mingling, but they tended to spend their evenings together and he hadn’t yet made an appearance. Surely the guards didn’t need that much assistance?

The worry, while very unlikely, still needled her. She left the balcony, sidling through the edges of the party and out into the deserted corridors down to the guards at the entrance. He had left them sometime ago.

Where? She checked the barracks, the bar room, his room. Nothing.

She stilled, he wasn’t…?

Miranda took the stairs to her own room two at a time, heart thumping in her chest. The hallway seemed longer than ever and when she turned the corner she paused for just a moment, then smirked sauntering down it.

Outside her door, sitting against the wall with one leg propped up Kongol looked at her. He made to get up, but she waved him to stay, coming to his knee she reached out a hand and used it to pivot around to his front, standing between his legs. She glanced down, for once, hand trailing a bit down his thigh, the corded muscles hard, “Let’s go inside.”

He swallowed thickly, then nodded before following her inside.

She lit the lamps, innovation courtesy of their new wingly allies, the light glowed softly on the crystal walls and shut the door behind them. Hands tingling, mouth just a bit dry. Miranda turned, he was so welcome but unfamiliar in this space. Something she could easily grow used to. He seemed to have paused, back towards her and she looked around him…ah. So what if she had commissioned a new bed? It was a practical thing.

Kongol glanced down to her, eyebrow raised.

She flushed, “You’d rather be on the floor? Because you were not going to destroy my bed if I-” he cut her off, like from some novel, by leaning down and kissing her. Hard. Harder than he had ever. She pressed back to match him.

His palms cupped her at shoulder and hips while hers roamed. Jaw to throat to shoulder and then chest, hot skin and hard muscle, exposed. He usually wore much less than any other man she knew, and she had seen much of him during their journey and after. But touching was something rather new and she indulged. No other man she knew was so masculine, nearly too much- at least outwardly. Inwardly she knew him to have a gentled heart.

But it was not the time for gentleness and his heartbeat seemed to agree, pounding under her fingertips, racing with her own. Perhaps the anticipation had built up to a breaking point but she hardly cared as she threw herself into his embrace. She had waited, she had waited and now she had to wait no more.

One hand remained at her hip and the other made its way down her side, dipping into her waist, cupping her ass and then sliding down to her thigh. He pulled or she lifted it up, it made no matter. Only that her leg was out, ready to wrap around his own waist- and oh… Miranda sighed, desire conflicting with simple logistics, and had to pull back the slightest, “You might,” she swallowed, finding her voice in the haze of want she found herself in, “You might need to sit down for this to work.”

Kongol breathed heavily, chest rising and falling under her hands, “Can it?” he asked, almost more to himself.

She frowned, she had planned this out! She had prepared for this, for him! “Yes-” she cut off her snappy reply at his tone, “Yes,” she said firmly, leaning her head against his chest, just embracing him for this moment.

The hand left her leg, letting her foot drop to the floor, and went to the back of her head. Cradling her skull in his palm, brushing her hair very softly, “Trust Miranda.”

Affection welled up, and instead of competing with her libido only bolstered it. She grinned, he couldn’t see her face afterall, willing to admit that maybe, just maybe she was rather soft.

Releasing her, he went to sit down on the edge of the bed, testing the sturdy frame. Grunting, apparently satisfied, he turned back to her and waited. Miranda stepped the few paces to her dresser, this gown was a simple one but fine and started to unbutton it, “You should undress,” her voice dropping as the gown pooled on the floor.

She wore a chemise and bodice underneath so she was not nude yet. A brief struggle with the tight laces as usual while Kongol watched her with eager eyes. His boots were off and she saw his feet for the first time, large, arched and rather knobby. Discarding the constricting bodice, she stepped forward- her own toes coming up to his in the thick pile of the carpet- and rested her hands on his knees for a moment before stepping fully into the space between his legs.

Her hands trailed down his thighs to his hips where he still wore the heavy pelt belted over pants. On the bed he looked down to her, so close now and so enveloping- like a single space just for them.

Miranda smirked as he leaned in to kiss her, hands coming up to her back as her own worked the buckles of his bandolier. His chest was bare now, free for her to run fingernails lightly, then a bit harder, over the rock solid muscles. Kongol groaned, deep and satisfied, and didn’t leave her mouth as he returned the favor, running his palms from her back to her hips to her stomach and then her breasts. She sighed against his mouth, the gentle caress was still through the thin fabric of her chemise and the hard points of her nipples peaked through prominently- the dark areola easily visible.

He teased, his large fingertips rolling them through the chemise or cupping the weight of her breast in the hollow of his palm, his hand covering not only her breast but most of her ribcage as well. Her own hand small and pale and lost in the expanse of his chest. The ridges of his peck and abdominals were in sharp relief and she spread her fingers wide, mapping the distinct topography as she found his belt again.

She shuddered, heat seemingly settling in low in her abdomen after sparking from her mouth and breasts. Good, so good but not enough yet.

Miranda pulled away, just enough to pull her chemise over her head and toss it somewhere she could care about later. Hands came back, even hotter, even softer, even more insistent and she let out a groan this time, full throated and verging on desperate.

Her legs shifted anxiously, she was wet and aching and wanting, “Your belt…”

He didn’t need to be told twice, for once no hesitation as one hand left her breast and went to his lap to quickly undo the buckles and push the garment to the side. His pants were underneath, tented.

He scooted up, pushed the material down and off and she finally saw him whole.

Miranda paused, breath heavy and eyes wide. His cock was large, perhaps larger than she had prepared for. Her hand twitched to touch it. Even if it wouldn’t happen tonight, she would damn well try.

He caught her gaze, the pause must have gotten to him since the faintest tinge of concern crossed his dear features. Well, that wouldn’t do would it?

She gave in, her hand lightly touching from root up before gripping a bit more firmly to thumb at the wetness at the tip. He shuddered with a broken exhale, head bowing to rest against her shoulder and hands pressed into her hips. A grin split her face, even with just this he was coming undone.

Stroking on just the gentle side of firmly, Miranda let herself enjoy the full and heavy hardness, the way the skin slid along with her hand. Too dry for a rapid pull though and by the way he had stopped caressing her and just trembled against her too soon for him to finish. She tilted her head into his neck, the heady scent of musk filled her nose, almost as if she could taste it. She licked her lips.

“Kongol…” she let him go, setting her hands on his thighs the muscles hard underneath her fingers as she squeezed her hands, squeezed her legs together. His cock pointed up at her.

A moment, he pulled back a bit breath hot and wet against her shoulder, “…Yes…?”

Miranda craned her neck to look at him, he blinked and straightened, “I have a potion, a salve to ease the way,” she tilted her chin over to her nightstand, “Just over there.”

He nodded and reached over with his long arm, grabbing the bottle and giving it to her. She uncorked it and let the sweet smelling gel pour into her hand and then over his cock. It twitched at the cool touch. She grabbed his hand too, letting it coat his long fingers before quickly setting the bottle on the floor. A soft smile and a gentle kiss and she leaned into him, one leg folding over his own and resting in his lap. His cock brushed up her stomach, she could see the tip in the gap between her breasts if she looked down.

Kongol groaned, leaning into her. His clean hand brushed her hair back as he deepened the kiss, letting his wide mouth settle against her own and then her cheek and then neck. She let him, arching her back to give him more access. She found his other hand, slick and hot and massive and brought it between her legs, guiding the blunt ends of his fingers through her folds.

She gasped, the achy throbbing turning into a building wave of heady neediness. His fingers circled her clit, her entrance. The wet sound loud and driving her even higher. Her thighs trembled and she had to clutch at him to hold steady. He didn’t stop, taking over where she had left him, the teasing touches growing more earnest as the heel of his hand cupped her mound.

Miranda canted her hips, letting the finger at her entrance slip in with just the slightest stretch, grinding against him. She moaned, eyes shut tight, letting the shudder wash over her. Each press of her hips to his hand grazed against her clit and the friction seemed to travel straight from between her legs and out to her toes, curling them.

The press of his cock against her caught her attention suddenly, her slick hand relaxing from his bicep and gripping it. She couldn’t quite get all the way around, her knuckles white trying, but that didn’t stop her. She matched each press of her hips to the movements of her hand, the two sliding together in tandem. Kongol caught on, his hand lifting up into her, his hips starting to buck off the bed. She could feel the waves building, higher and higher, her heart pounding in her chest.

More, she needed more.

She grabbed his hand again, pressing two fingers together and then impaling herself on them in one motion. This time the stretch burned and she couldn’t help the cry on her lips, her inner walls clenching. She arched forward, breathing through her nose.

He stilled, “…Miranda?”

She shook her head viciously, her hand still working him hard. How do you explain something you wanted no matter what? Something you ached for even as you had to endure it? Perhaps there was no explaining it, there was just knowing it in her gut, her heart, the marrow of her bones.

“Keep going,” she commanded, “Just a bit slower,” she whispered.

He did, fingers still but palm rubbing. His other hand found her breasts again, thumb trailing over her nipples and then along the sensitive undersides. Her breath hitched, pleasure pooling once again.

It didn’t take long until she was riding the wave high once more, Kongol not far behind. The third finger went much more smoothly, this time she did not disregard her practice, even if she felt a bit as if her legs were spread obscenely wide as they folded over his own. She doubted she could hold the position for very long, but that hardly mattered since he was bearing nearly all her weight onto the hand still inside her. He seemed to not even feel the strain.

Miranda relaxed, letting him hold her up completely as she used both hands to stroke him. The shaft, the head, the heavy balls underneath. She swallowed, considering.

She had to bend a bit awkwardly, but was able to take the tip into her mouth, tongue swirling around then flat against the slit. She could taste the gel and then as almost an aftertaste the saltiness of him.

A rumbling groan, Kongol’s hand inside her and his cock inside her twitched. She answered him with a gasp, then clamped her lips around him and sucked. Her hands matching on his shaft. His abdominal muscles rippled and then hollowed out as he let out an exhale, hips bucking. She released him with a wet pop, blue eyes looking up at him.

He crashed his lips to hers, sucking her lower lip as he pumped erratically into her hands. He came quickly, releasing onto her hands and chest. She eased him through it, hands softening, slowing. But he didn’t cease, his tongue found hers, his fingers still curling inside her, his palm still pressing into her clit. Miranda let him play her, just letting the sheer desire pour through her. She followed him with a cry, legs trapping his hand as she finally, finally crested that wave.

Boneless she sagged against him, sweaty and satiated. He pulled out of her, wet hand guiding her to rest on lap as they both caught their breath. His cock was glistening and limp and Miranda decided that maybe not tonight, or the next but yes.

She tilted her head, laying it on his heaving chest, listening to the pounding heart within as it settled.

A moment, two, forever.

***

Her daughter smiled, a small secret one, “They all are… aren’t they?”

Miranda put her arms around her, hugged her fiercely and nostalgically, “We’ll be right up there waiting for you, Indira.”

Arms tight around her, like she had as a child when Miranda carried her. She didn’t care if the tears were welling up.

Let everyone see her happiness.

**Author's Note:**

> So, over 10k words of a rarepair from a 20 year old game... yeah I regret nothing. I dedicate (and blame in equal measure) this to the one other Miranda/Kongol shipper, I read your story and started to ship them over ten years ago. It is extremely cathartic to get this out finally. 
> 
> I greatly appreciate feedback.


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